Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Blue Box
by Strictly-untalkative
Summary: Sherlock was gone, vanishing into nothing when John's back was turned. So now it's up to Watson to find him, and his only lead is the insane couple who appeared on his doorstep, asking him to help find their 'Doctor' - Semi-serious crossover, please R
1. Can you see the Blue Box?

**THIS DISCLAIMER STANDS FOR THE FIC IN IT'S ENTIRETY. **

**I DO NOT OWN DOCTOR WHO OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS THEREIN, NOR DO I OWN SHERLOCK. THIS STEMS FROM ME NOT BEING STEVEN MOFFAT, WHICH IS A DAMN SHAME. THERE WILL BE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS HERE AND THERE IN MINOR ROLES, BUT MOSTLY I OWN NOTHING. I AM NOT WRITING THIS FOR PROFIT, I AM WRITING THIS FOR SHIZ AND GIGGLES AND ALSO FOR HATTIE. THANKS TO THE EVERY LOVELY VICKY FOR RETURNING AS MY BETA.**

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><p>John was writing his blog. He hadn't for a while now, not since the swimming pool, but he thought it was about time that he got back into the habit – or else his therapist might actually try and get back in touch again.<br>Sherlock said that it has nothing to do with his therapist and everything to do with John just wanting attention from his readers, attention he got from embarrassing him and exploiting all of _his_ hard work, but then again, Sherlock had been in a bad mood ever since they had run out of chocolate digestives. John rolled his eyes at the memory of his flatmates tantrum and returned his focus to the empty word document in front of him.  
>'What are you going to write?' came a monotonous reply from behind him, 'It's not as though I've had any new cases.' John turned to reply as Sherlock aimlessly drifted into the room and settled on the sofa, but his response died in his throat as he took in the other man's dishevelled appearance. Sherlock was shirtless; his dressing gown hanging open, exposing the white hospital dressing that hid the still healing bullet wounds that Moriarty had left him. John cleared his throat and looked away before Sherlock caught him staring.<br>'I meant to write it for my therapy, not just for your cases.' He snapped, trying to block out the image of what was under the bandages; he had so many memories from the war – so many flickers in his mind's eye of blood and limbs and death. But none of them compared to Sherlock floating face down in that swimming pool, his blood leaking in the chlorinated water as Moriarty and his men escaped. 'You hate it anyway,' he added, his voice softening, 'you know everyone at the Yard reads it.' Sherlock made a dismissive noise, pulling a small box of Nicorette patches out of his dressing gown pocket.  
>'There's no sense in us both being bored to death.' He muttered darkly, peeling off the patch that had been on his arm since last night, flicking it in the vague direction of the waste paper bin, and smoothing another down in its place. John continued to just stare at his screen, but as he heard Sherlock let out a deep sigh and bury himself deeper into the pile of cushions on the sofa, signalling that the detective wasn't going to be talking to him right now, he clicked out of that window and went to check his emails for the tenth time that day.<p>

**1 New Message.**

John clicked on it far too eagerly, but then again this was his private email – so the chances of it being something worthwhile were favourable. As it happened, it just read; 'Click your IM' and surely enough, the tab for the instant messenger service at the top of the window had begun to flash. He looked at it wearily, and turned around to see Sherlock facing away from him, curled up on the sofa.  
>'Are you texting my email just so you don't have to talk to me face to face?' he asked incredulously, but there was no reply, so John turned back to the screen with a frown, clicking on the flashing tab.<p>

**AMYZBOI2 says: Are you there Doctor Watson?**

John blinked, there was no way someone could have just started talking to him on here – Sherlock had set up their internet security himself, it was infallible.

**AMYZBOI2 says: We know you're there Doctor Watson – we need you to respond; it's kind of important. **

**AMYZBOI2 says: And it's really important that you don't turn around again, trust me.**

He just stared at the screen now, every instinct desperate to spin straight back around on the chair, but his experience over the last couple of months telling him that he should probably do what the computer was saying. For now at least.

**JOHNWATSON says: Who is this?**

**AMYZBIO2 says: Finally! **

**AMYZBOI2 says: And I'm a friend.**

**JOHNWATSON says: Do I know you?**

**AMYZBOI2 says: Not yet, but you will – it's complicated. For now we just have to talk.**

**JOHNWATSON says: Tell me who you are if we're talking.**

**AMYZBOI2 says: I can't, you'll Google me.**

John paused at that, did they think he was going to Facebook them or something?

**JOHNWATSON says: I take it you're not one of Mycroft's then.**

**AMYZBOI2 says: Nope.**

**JOHNWATSON: And no one from the yard could contact me on this email.**

**AMYZBOI2 says: I didn't do it – a friend sorted it for me, and told me that I just have to stop you from turning around.**

Once again John had to use all of his self-control to keep looking at the screen.

**JOHNWATSON says: Why can't I turn around?**

**AMYZBOI2 says: You can do, in about 30 seconds.**

**JOHNWATSON says: But why not now?**

**AMYZBOI2 says: Because if you see the thing that is taking Sherlock Holmes, then it will kill you.**

John snapped, twisting around in the chair and throwing himself to his feet. Sherlock was gone. Nothing had changed, nothing had been disturbed – even the little box of patches was still balanced on the arm of the sofa, the cushions still moulded into the shape of a reclining man. The doors were locked and the windows shut.  
>And Sherlock Holmes was gone.<br>John didn't even need to look around to know that he was gone, the flat always felt different when Sherlock wasn't there – giving off his own personal aura of potential energy – and it couldn't have felt more empty in that moment.  
>Slowly, he turned back to the computer.<p>

**AMYZBOI2 says: Sorry.**

**AMYZBOI2 says: I know this must be hard.**

John clenched his jaw.

**JOHNWATSON says: Where is he? And who are you?**

**AMYZBOI2 says: Now that he's gone we can tell you everything.**

**JOHNWATSON says: Now.**

**AMYZBOI2 says: You'll have to come to us. But we're only across the road.**

John jumped to his feet and stared out of the window for a moment, Baker Street was as plain and grey as usual. He turned back to the screen, impatient for the next response, and typed a short; '**Where?**' as an unearthly groaning rattled through the windows; organic and mechanical at the same time.

**AMYZBOI2 says: Can you see the blue box?**

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><p>Hey everyone, Strictly here - returning after my long absence with some new projects. Hope some of you are still around, or if you're new then hi.<br>This is just the prolouge of this little adventure through time, space and sanity, the first chapter is written already though and should go up on friday, so watch the fic if you're interested.  
>And reviews please, it's hard to write without crit ;)<strong><br>**


	2. Some not particularly warm welcomes

Rory blew hot air into his hands, rubbing them together ferociously in an attempt to shield them from the cold Baker Street air. Amy wiggled her own glove covered fingers in response.  
>'Told you to wear gloves.' She said smugly, as Rory moved his hands to his arms rubbing them as well. 'And a better coat would have been a good idea, stupid.' She added, tapping him on the arm with a woollen fist.<br>'Yeah well the Doctor told you to wear trousers.' He mumbled, and his wife giggled, turning on the spot.  
>'And here was me thinking you liked the skirts.' She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing their noses together. Rory cleared his throat.<br>'He's coming out of the flat.' He said awkwardly, and Amy kissed him on the nose before letting go of him and turning to face the man walking furiously over to them. Rory leaned over to her, whispering into her hair. 'Remember we mustn't talk about the books – anything but the books.' Amy shoved him.  
>'I know that stupid face.' She said, before grinning. 'Helloooo Doctor Watson!'<br>'Hi' Rory added, looking jealously at the other man's turtleneck as another gust of wind swept down the street. Watson's face was carefully neutral, but Rory had spent enough time around dangerous people to know the look in the other man's eyes well enough.  
>'Are you Amyzboi2?' he gritted out, and Rory blinked.<br>'Two?' he said, turning to his wife, and she shrugged;  
>'Amyzboi1 was taken.' She said,<br>'By who?'  
>'The Doctor, obviously.'<br>'But...'  
>'Look,' Watson interrupted, and he slowly pulled handgun from underneath his jumper, and without even thinking about it Rory pushed Amy behind him. 'Tell me who you are, and tell me where Sherlock is.' Rory stared down the barrel, trying not to flinch.<br>'We don't know where he is, bit we're here to help you find him.' He said, raising one hand in front of the gun gingerly, whilst using the other to keep Amy behind him. 'We're missing someone too – and they're going to turn up in the same place.'  
>'Or that's the plan anyway.' Amy called out from behind him, Watson frowned.<br>'What plan?' he asked, lowering the gun slowly. Rory sighed as Amy peered over his shoulder.  
>'The Big Beautiful Plan,' the redhead said with feeling, 'You get back Sherlock Holmes, and we get back the Doctor.'<p>

x-x-x

The Doctor was running, which was nothing new. But he didn't even know what he was running from, although technically that was nothing new either.  
>'GERONIMO' he yelled, as he jumped from one rooftop to the another, hitting the flat surface and rolling straight into a skylight, and right onto someone's bed. 'Perfect landing.' He said, running his hands through his dishevelled hair with a flourish, as the owner of the bed simply stared. The Doctor patted the young man on the head, grinning. 'You just sit tight,' he said reassuringly, 'it's me they're after.' And with another bound he was out of the room, down the stairs and out of the front door; and all the young man could do was watch the shadows that chased after him.<br>'So you're fast, you're invisible, you can fly – but you can't go through walls.' The Time Lord yelled at his pursuers, 'BORING.' He rounded the corner of the residential street and reached for his screwdriver, before remembering that he'd given it to Rory, his fingers instead clenching around a plastic wrapper. 'Have a custard cream instead.' He whooped, throwing the packet behind him, and grinning as he heard an outraged roar. He took in his surroundings quickly, he was close to the right entrance now – and there was no way they'd be able to follow him into the Under London; no one dared go without an invitation.  
>'It's a shame I don't have one either.' He muttered as a tall iron gate came into view.<p>

x-x-x

'I'm Rory.' Rory said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled after Amy's declaration of _The Plan_ 'Rory Williams, and this is my wife Amy.' The other man's expression didn't change 'And, err…' Rory faltered, but Amy butted in;  
>'And what would be really nice, Doctor Watson.' She said sweetly, ' is if you would invite me and my husband inside before his big nose freezes off.' Rory opened his mouth to protest in defence of his nose but Amy just hushed him, 'Look,' she said pointedly, 'you're armed, we're not. You want to know what's going on, and we want to tell you – but a cup of tea would really, <em>really<em> sweeten the deal.  
>Watson blinked, and Rory couldn't help but smirk slightly; it was good to see Amy completely disarm someone apart from him and the Doctor for once<br>'Fine.' He said after a moment, 'I'll have to borrow some teabags from Mrs Hudson, but fine.' Watson's mouth twitched into a faint smirk at the mention of his housekeeper, 'you'd better come in'. he said, gesturing to the still left open door.  
>A small flight of stairs later, and they were; 221B Baker street – a flat that was practically identical to the TARDIS's second library – all sofa and cushions and books and..<br>'Skull.' Rory said without meaning to, and Amy rolled her eyes, seating herself at the large wooden table in the flat's kitchen.  
>'The skull is Sherlock's – an old friend apparently.' Watson said stiffly, neglecting to join Amy at the table, even and Rory slowly lowered himself into a chair next to his wife.<br>'Lovely.' He said without much conviction, rubbing his hands together again, relishing the flat's central heating, Watson frowned at him a moment, before finally deigning to join them.  
>'So you've told me who you are, Mr and Mrs Williams,' he said, 'Now tell me what's going one – who has taken Sherlock.'<br>'Not who,' Amy corrected, 'What.'  
>'Don't talk nonsense.' Watson said curtly, 'And what did you mean that they'd kill me if I turned around? What sort of people are they?'<br>'Well actually,' said Rory, shifting in his seat uncomfortably, 'That was a bit of a lie.'  
>'An exaggeration, not a lie.' Amy amended quickly, 'They wouldn't have killed you – but they would have taken you as well.'<br>'And then we'd never find the Doctor.' Rory finished.  
>'Doctor Who?' Doctor Watson demanded.<p>

x-x-x

The Doctor was greeted into the Under London by a platoon of Rat Guards, Rat Guards that were far too happy to jab at him impatiently with their spears as they shuffled down the crowded alleyways.  
>'This isn't really necessary you know.' The Doctor repeated for what must have been the twentieth time, 'I <em>want<em> to go see the Deadman – you don't have to drag me along like this.' One of the guards gave him another jab in response, and the Doctor winced as he heard it catch and tear in his jacket.  
>'Escort the Doctor to the Black Tower,' one of the Rats grumbled monotonously, 'Doctor not allowed to scamper around Under London like a hyperactive puppy.' It quoted, and the Doctor frowned.<br>'He's not lost his sense of humour then.' He muttered, straightening his bowtie indignantly, and then peering behind him as he heard someone shout his name.  
>'Doctor!' A faceless voice yelled out from the crowd, 'The Doctor is here!' The Rat Guards let out a simultaneous groan and moved to shield him from the crowd that had started to mass around them.<br>'Going to see the Deadman.' One of them snapped, 'Come back later.' But the crowd continued to follow them, doubling in size as the alley opened up into one of Under London's only wide roads. They cheered and chattered at the Doctor, trying to share songs and stories, some even throwing sewer flowers and glittering scraps of non-cloth. He grinned at them in response, trying to snatch up as much as he could – these were precious things down here after all, and gifts weren't given lightly.  
>'You lot haven't forgotten me then.' He said, and the crowd cheered, 'Nice to know I'm still appreciated.' He said pointedly, and got another sharp jab in response. He winced as he heard the tweed tear even further.<br>'OI, DOKTAR.' Came a particularly loud, and rather high pitched yell, and the Doctor blinked as a small sooty figured dodged out of the crowd, and dipped under the Rat's spears. It was a girl in clothes far too big for her, a dirty top hat on her dark brown hair, and a monkey balanced on her shoulder, one of the Rats grabbed at her.  
>'Remove yourself, chimney sweep.' It hissed, but the girl swatted its hand away.<br>'Gerrof.' She spat, 'I got summat to trade wi' the Doktar.' The Doctor held up a hand, and the Rat Guard stood back. Then he crouched down and looked the girl in her brown eyes, his voice gentle.  
>'What's your name?' he asked, and she smiled wickedly.<br>'Sheeny.' She answered, before jabbing a thumb in the direction of her monkey; 'And this is Fezza.'  
>'Nice to meet you Sheeny and Fezza.' The Doctor said amiably, but the girl shook her head.<br>'Nowt nice about it,' she said seriously, 'this is a business transaction.' The Doctor nodded, making sure his face was equally serious.  
>'Yeah,' he said, 'you want to make a trade.'<br>'Yup.' She said, the wicked grin returning, 'a good one.'  
>'Everyone else is giving me gifts,' The Doctor said slowly, his voice hushed, 'if you want to trade, it must be something very cool.'<br>'About as cool as a screwdriver can get.' She whispered, pulling out a shining gold and silver cylinder from her filthy jacket.

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><p><strong>Just a quick author note to say that I know this is really short. But i've decided to go with short but regular updates with this fic - MondayWednesday/Friday because it'll be easier to keep it up; I don't want to spend an age trying to write this in big clumps with weeks and weeks between updates. Hope noone minds.**

**See you guys on Monday - thanks for your reviews and for watching, I really appreciate it x**


	3. That time we were drinking tea and wine

The Doctor looked at the Laser Screwdriver blankly, not quite processing what it was for a moment.  
>'Well here it is.' She said proudly, 'wotcha gonna trade?' The Doctor wasn't paying attention,<br>'Where did you get it?' he asked hoarsely, eyes still firmly on the screwdriver, reaching out to touch it, but the girl quickly re-pocketed it.  
>'Trade.' She said firmly, 'don't go trying nuffin funny just coz you're the oncoming scone – you better 'ave summat good.' He blinked again, shaking his head quickly and clearing his throat.<br>'Of course I do,' he said indignantly, making a show of patting down his pockets and then sighing in relief as he realised that he did indeed have something good to trade, he pulled it out with a flourish; 'Here.' He said, holding out a key-ring; a glass ball full of swirling fog attached on a silver chain.  
>'What's that then?' the chimney sweep asked suspiciously, leaning in to peer at it, her monkey doing the same.<br>'A remembrall.' The Time Lord said, sounding pleased with himself, but the girl scowled.  
>'That's from 'Arry Potter you toff – I aint stupid' she said, snatching it off him and shaking it dismissively.<br>'Your point being?' he replied smugly as the fog inside the sphere turned a vivid red; 'Forgotten something?' he added with a grin. Sheeny blinked, her face going as red as the remembrall.  
>'No.' she said stubbornly, but Fezza made a couple of low whining noises that suggested otherwise.<br>'Shall I take it back then?' The Doctor said earnestly, holding out a hand, but the girl held it protectively.  
>'This is good.' She said quickly, and the Doctor nodded, smiling.<br>'Trade then?' he said, holding out his hand to shake for it.  
>'Almost,' she said, 'this is fine for me – but you gotta trade summat for Fezza too – it was 'im what found it you see.' The Doctor's smile didn't fade, this was pretty normal for an Under London trade – it was why people had familiars in the first place, getting a little extra in a trade here and there.<br>'And what does Fezza want?' he asked amiably, the monkey made a show of whispering into Sheen's hair, holding to the rim of her top-hat with one hand and covering his mouth with the other.  
>'He wants your tie.' She said after a moment, 'Your tie and your shirt.'<p>

And so here the Doctor stood, pleased to once again feel the reassuring weight of a screwdriver in his jacket pocket, it eased his mind somewhat. A mind that needed easing due to his being uncomfortably aware of the cold air on his now bare chest, and his growing frustration as he attempted to straighten a bowtie that was no longer there. Very much the Raggedy Doctor now, stood in the Story Hall of the Deadman, shirtless and tattered, trying not to scowl as the Lord of Under London greeted him, the black-clad man trying not to laugh in turn.

x-x-x

Amy looked at her husband fondly as he floundered to explain who the Doctor was to an increasingly annoyed John Watson, he wasn't really doing very well.  
>'Are you trying to tell me that you came here with a time travelling alien in a blue box?' Watson growled.<br>'Pretty much,' Amy interjected, grinning, and Watson's face went red, the colour spreading all the way down his neck into his turtleneck.  
>'Don't try and tell me some absolute..' he started but there was a sharp knock at the door, Watson visibly bit his tongue as the door creaked open and a kindly face peered around,<br>'John?' the woman at the door enquired, and Watson held a hand to his forehead and sighed loudly.  
>'Yes Mrs Hudson?' he said tiredly.<br>'That funny brother of Sherlock's is here John – should I let him in? I know Sherlock's not been so well and…' Watson's head had snapped up though at the mention of the other man and he nodded emphatically, his eyes still on Rory in a way that Amy didn't like at all.  
>'Definitely' he said, 'And, Sherlock isn't in right now anyway.' He added awkwardly, and Amy looked away, her attention now on the door – waiting to see this new visitor – as a tall man with short hair and a pointed nose walked in, his expression serious and his head held high.<br>'Pray tell, Doctor Watson, where is my brother if he isn't 'in'?' the new arrival asked, and Amy watched as Watson obviously grasped for an excuse that didn't involve aliens and time travel.  
>'Sherlock went to get some biscuits.' He finally said, rather weakly, as the other man sniffed and turned towards the kitchen, his face blank for a moment – and Amy could tell this wasn't an expression that the other man wore often.<br>'Who are your friends John?' he asked after a moment, his voice stiff and expression suave again as he completely ignore the other man's feeble explanation. Amy could see that Watson was about to argue as to them being his 'friends' and so quickly stood up to introduce herself.  
>'I'm Amy, and this is my husband Rory.' She said cheerfully, quickly tugging her gloves off and holding out a hand warmly, trying not to frown as the same hint of surprise once again flashed across the visitors face.<br>'A pleasure,' he said after another pause, and Amy could tell that Watson had noted it too, as Rory stepped forward to shake hands also. 'I'm Mycroft Holmes.' He said by means of a simple introduction, before turning back to Watson.  
>'I didn't think his brother was meant to actually get involved.' Rory whispered to her, worry evident in his words, but Amy just shrugged.<br>'It's not an exact science is it?' she answered, 'I mean, the book didn't say anything about eyeballs in a microwave did it? And there they are.' Amy smirked slightly as Rory made disgusted noise, 'shut it,' she said with a small shove, 'you're the nurse – suck it up.' He laughed then, Watson and Mycroft both turning to glare at them, and both of the Williams promptly shushed.  
>'You and I both know Sherlock hasn't gone out for biscuits.' Mycroft said simply, not actually looking at Watson, but instead at his perfectly manicured nails. 'That's the sort of job he reserves for you John.' Watson opened his mouth to object, but Mycroft cut him off; 'So I'm really more inclined to believe that my brother's whereabouts has something to do with the Police Box outside and the pair of wanted fugitives in your kitchen.'<p>

x-x-x

'You're here without an invitation, Time Lord.' The Deadman's words were cold but there was a certain teasing undertone that warmed the harsh greeting, the Doctor allowed himself a slight smile.  
>'Are we not on first names terms anymore Your Majesty?' he said, striding across the great black hall to stand directly in front of the other man, taking in the news lines on the long face, and the extra length in the pitch black curls that framed it – the clothes were the same as ever. The Deadman grinned himself now, grabbing the Doctor's shoulders and pulling him into a warm hug.<br>'I don't think we were ever on first name terms my dear.' The Lord of Under London said cheerfully, 'I call you Doctor, like everyone else.' He gestured to the pile of cushions and assorted sofa's that had replaced the thrown since the Doctor had sat here last, and gestured for him to sit down.  
>'Well I think I'll still just call you Nancy if you don't mind.' He said after sitting down on a particularly splendid pink bean bag, 'Your Majesty gets a bit tiring after a while doesn't it?'<br>'For you or for me?' Nancy asked, smiling again as he folded his long limbs and settled onto a black leather cushion, 'but fine, call me by that name if you will. No one else would dare these days.' The Doctor nodded, his expression contemplative.  
>'The Lord of all Under London.' He said, 'I never thought you'd manage it Nancy.' The other man shrugged.<br>'Someone had to do it.' He said, reaching underneath a blanket to pull out a dusty bottle of wine and a couple of obsidian goblets. 'Wine?' he asked, pulling the stopper out.  
>'No thanks.' The Doctor said, pulling a face as the red liquid cascaded from bottle into vessel and Nancy took a sip, 'But I didn't come here to drink Nancy.' He said seriously, and the other man sighed into his cup.<br>'You didn't come here to chat about old battles and underground kingdoms either.' He said, his expression suddenly glum and he stared into the dark liquid he was holding. 'You came here to ask about Sherlock Holmes.' The Doctor nodded,  
>'What can you tell me Nancy?' he said eagerly, 'You know everything that goes on upstairs – you have to know who's pulling the strings on this one. Nancy looked pained, his eyes distant; focusing somewhere just over the Doctor's shoulder.<br>'All I know is that there is nothing you can do for Holmes.' He said heavily, and before the Doctor could protest his eyes changed their focus, their grey depths on the Doctor now, serious and powerful, 'And if you follow this path my friend, there will be nothing you can do for yourself.

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><p><strong>Fun fact; the Deadman is not an original character of mine. He's just got some fabulous aliases going on. And if anyone works out who he is in either this chapter or the next it means that I AM NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH, and might have to throw myself out of a window.<strong>  
><strong> Also, I want to write Mycroft so <em>so<em> camp, but am trying to resist XP**

**Thanks to all reviewers – you are darlings and I love you very much.**  
><strong> See you on Wednesday.<strong>


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